


Scrapbook It

by Evandar



Category: Legally Blonde (2001)
Genre: Artificial Insemination, F/F, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure they'd agreed to try for a baby, but Vivian hadn't expected it to happen so quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrapbook It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iseethatsubtext](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iseethatsubtext/gifts).



> I've never written for this fandom before, so I'm really new to this. I hope you enjoy the fic!

She should have expected the squeal. Years had passed, maturity had set in, but Elle Woods was still Elle Woods and beneath her chic façade was still the bubbly California girl that had so shocked her classmates in her first year of Harvard.

As it was, through some lapse of judgement, she _didn’t_ expect it and the plate she’d been rinsing shattered in the sink. “Elle?”

“Oh my God, it _worked_!” came the answering shriek. Vivian, standing in the kitchen with soap suds dripping from her shaking fingers, wracked her brain, trying to figure out what Elle was talking about. She couldn’t. But the mystery didn’t last for long: Elle raced through, still in her nightie with her hair loose and un-styled and her breasts loose beneath pink silk, a small white stick clutched between her fingers.

Vivian remembered. “Oh my God,” she said.

Then Elle was in her arms, shrieking with excitement and clinging on tight, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Vivian wrapped her arms around her, staring blankly at the kitchen tiles, and squeezed back.

“Oh my God,” she repeated.

They were going to be parents.

…

The pregnancy test rested on the kitchen island between them, laid neatly on a cushion of kitchen towel. Vivian couldn’t stop staring at it. This tiny piece of plastic. Its tiny blue plus sign. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit annoyed that it was. It wasn’t like they could conceive accidentally. She just hadn’t expected… She hadn’t expected it would happen so soon. So easily. A donation from Emmett kept carefully warm and a, well, a clean turkey baster, and Elle was pregnant. 

“We should start a scrapbook,” Elle was saying. “Fill it with things. Dates and times and pictures. Important stuff, so that she can look at it when she’s all grown up and know that we loved her straight away.”

“Her?” Vivian asked.

“Uhuh, I think so.”

It was too early to tell. _Way_ too early. For all that she kept touching it – for all that Vivian kept touching it – Elle’s stomach was still flat as a board; tanned and lightly muscled. Their baby was a bundle of rapidly dividing cells. It was genderless, featureless, and completely life-altering. 

She took a deep breath. “We should,” she agreed. “Yeah.” Her head was swimming. Yes, she’d agreed with the idea. She’d supported it from the off and been as involved with the conception as she could have been, but still. Shock. Shock and something that was rapidly approaching awe.

“Viv?”

“We should call her Brooke.”

The words just tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, and Elle’s wide-eyed look told her that, yes, she really had said them. Really had suggested commemorating their first case together – Elle’s first win – with their baby. And all she could think as a wide, beaming smile broke out over Elle’s face, was that if the baby was a boy then they’d be totally screwed.

_Totally._

…

“So, like, it totally worked,” Elle said. She’d called Paulette on her way to meet Vivian after work to gush. She couldn’t help it. After Vivian and Emmett, Paulette _had_ to be the first to know. Then her parents, and Margot and Serena, and oh, _everybody_ , but Paulette made the top three. “And Baby Kensington-Woods is on the way. We’re calling her Brooke. Yeah, I know. Totally cute, right? Oh my God, I have to go. I’ve just seen the most perfect…yeah. Uhuh. Call you later. Kisses!”

The most perfect crib was standing in a shop window. Whitewashed wood, decorated with carved flowers painted in delicate pinks and yellows. _Perfect_ for Brooke.

She didn’t know how she knew the baby was a girl. She’d seen through Vivian’s scepticism earlier, and knew that her partner didn’t really believe her all that much, but she knew. Something – Brooke, maybe? – was just screaming at her that it was true.

“It’s beautiful.”

Elle jumped. Vivian had appeared next to her while she’d spaced out, immaculate and poised in Armani and Manolo Blahniks. She’d though Vivian kind of boring-looking once. _“Not entirely unfortunate,”_ she’d dubbed her, back when she was hung up on Warner and Vivian had him instead.

 _God_ but she’d been dumb back then. They both had been.

“I called Paulette,” she said. “She says congratulations. She’s going to bring Baby Elle up for a visit.”

She saw Vivian nod from the corner of her eye. Saw the way dark hair slid over a sharp, pale cheekbone, and she felt a pang of loss that their little Brooke wouldn’t be able to inherit those. Not that there was anything wrong with the bone structure she _would_ inherit, but Vivian was pretty far from not entirely unfortunate and her cheekbones were one of her best features.

She heard Vivian take a deep breath. Just like the one before she’d blurted out Brooke as a baby name. It made her stand straighter, knowing what was next was going to be important somehow.

“We need to call our parents,” Vivian said. “ _Together_.” Together because neither of them would be able to handle the task on their own – especially Vivian, whose parents still didn’t quite get why she’d swapped a Huntington for a California girl – and because they were partners. Forever, no matter what. “But we should, you know,” she continued, “take a look round first. Start planning the nursery. See what they’ve got.”

Elle could picture it so clearly. A room with white furniture and pastel yellow walls and a mobile with stars on it. A room full of sunshine and soft-sweet baby smell. Drawers filled with lacy dresses and tiny booties, and a pile of soft toys taller than Vivian.

She reached out and laced their fingers together, squeezing tight. Her heart was hammering in her ribs, and her lungs felt fit to burst from the sheer joy of it. “I still can’t believe it,” she said.

Vivian smiled at her, a simple, fond quirk of her lips. She held up a bag with her other hand, one she’d been hiding while Elle had stared at the crib. 

“So scrapbook it,” she said.


End file.
